


When in Rome

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Early Days, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7780045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a mission in Rome ends with Illya in the hospital--again--with Napoleon by his side--again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When in Rome

Napoleon let out a quiet sigh as he glanced at his watch. It was 3 AM, local time.

Their mission at Rome had been going well at first; they’d met their contact and picked up their message drop (the new U.N.C.L.E. code) with time to spare. Napoleon had the idea to do a little sightseeing before they headed to the airport to return to New York.

Illya had been neutral with what he had seen, but seemed to be pleased that Napoleon had been enjoying himself, at any rate. His resulting deadpan only wavered once—when Napoleon tossed a copper penny into the Trevi Fountain backwards.

“What was that for?”

“You haven’t heard the story? You throw a coin into the fountain from your right hand over your left shoulder,” Napoleon had replied, with a grin.

“…And?” Illya had asked, rolling his eyes. “You make a wish?”

“Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt, but the story goes that if you throw a coin like that, you’re guaranteed to return to Rome in the future.”

“…And here I was, thinking that the answer wouldn’t be so inane.”

“Try it and see,” Napoleon had challenged.

“Napoleon, believe me, if I return to Rome, it will either be for a holiday so that I may be a guest of the city, or because Mr. Waverly orders me here,” the Russian had replied. “However, if it will amuse you…”

Illya had taken a coin and casually tossed it over his shoulder.

“And you will see,” he had added. “What happens to me in the future has no bearing on whether or not I threw that coin.”

“…Then why’d you do it?”

Illya never had a chance to answer—THRUSH had picked up their trail, trying to get the code from them, and THRUSH’s sudden arrival at the fountain had meant that it was time for a tactical retreat.

The duo had fled in a taxi, but the THRUSH car pursued them, and that was when their cab had been rammed by a second THRUSH car as they had sped through an intersection.

Napoleon and the cab driver had been on the side opposite the crash and had injuries that weren’t too serious; Illya, on the other hand, had been on the side that had taken the impact. And that was why he was lying in a medical ward now, recovering from worse injuries—and why Napoleon hadn’t budged from his side.

They had danced this dance many times before--one of them sitting in a chair while the other was in a hospital bed--but it never got any easier.

Napoleon gently touched Illya’s hand with his; by reflex, Illya’s fingers twitched. It was a small movement, but a reassuring one.

“Hey…” he said, softly. “You know you’re going to get better, right? You threw a coin into the Trevi Fountain—that means you’re going to come back to Rome.”

Whether Illya had been awake but had been keeping his eyes closed, or whether he had woken up now in response to Napoleon’s voice, Napoleon wasn’t sure. But the Russian’s blue eyes did open, looking at him and acknowledging him—though clearly in a lessened state of awareness from the painkillers, but Napoleon had instructed the doctors to give him a lower dose since he knew from experience that larger dosages were enough to make Illya loopy enough to say and do all sorts of things.

Regardless, it was a welcome sight for the American.

Illya’s lips parted.

“Code…?” he croaked, his voice only a whisper.

“Shh. Don’t try to talk; you need to save your strength,” Napoleon instructed him. “The code is safe and on its way to Mr. Waverly. As far as he’s concerned, it’s Mission Accomplished—providing you get better. Which, as I just explained, has to happen.”

Illya rolled his eyes slightly.

“I know, I know,” Napoleon sighed. “You don’t believe it.”

“And you do…?” Illya whispered.

“Well…” Napoleon shrugged. “It’s just a fun little thing. I mean, there must be something you believe in just for the fun of it, right?”

Illya responded with a blank look on his face.

“…OK, I’m going to take that as a ‘no.’ You wouldn’t believe in things for fun, huh?” Napoleon sighed, and before he could stop himself, added, “Is there anything you believe in at all?” He flinched at his own brashness. “I’m just curious…”

Napoleon trailed off as Illya just responded with a slight smile, and gently touched Napoleon’s hand without a word. It took Napoleon a moment, not used to seeing his partner wear his heart on his sleeve--no doubt a side-effect of the painkillers, even with a lower dosage.

“ _Oh,_ ” Napoleon said.

“Our partnership is still young,” Illya said, weakly. “But in the year we have been working together, we have accomplished much. And I have found out that I can depend upon you when my life is in danger. So I can sleep now, knowing that you will look after me and alert someone should something happen to my vital signs.”

“Of course I will,” Napoleon vowed.

“Then I’m going back to sleep.”

“Good. You need it.”

“Mmmh,” the Russian replied, and he sank back into the pillow, closing his eyes again.

Napoleon sighed again, gently giving Illya’s hand a squeeze. It was clear now that the only reason Illya had tossed the coin in the fountain was to humor Napoleon.

“Just so you know…” Napoleon said. “I believe in you, too.”

“I know.”

Napoleon bristled, not expecting the reply—or the traces of a smile still on Illya’s face.

“Oh, go to sleep!” Napoleon chided.

And Illya did so, with Napoleon continuing to watch over him. And though nothing happened during the night, and though Illya didn’t make any reference to their conversation the next morning (instead complaining about how he hated hospitals--a sign that his recovery was going perfectly), the both of them knew that their faith in each other was not misplaced.


End file.
